


A Good Day for an Explosion

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Tag to season 2 episode 3 The Good Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:56:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3199706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got to see season 2, episode 3 The Good Soldier on Youtube and this is what I would have liked to have seen happen cause I’m not getting my quotient of brotherly love yet especially between d'Art and Athos.<br/>So SPOILERS ABOUND!<br/>If you don't want to be spoiled, please don't read t his yet. LOL!</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day for an Explosion

Waiting outside the building for their chance to get the cipher machine, Captain Treville and his men were impatient while inside another battle was being waged.

++++

When it seemed as if General Tariq Alaman was finally giving in to Baltasar, he surprised his old friend by throwing the cipher machine into the fireplace.

Shooting Alaman instantly, Baltasar reached into the fire and retrieved the machine from the hot flames. “You have failed, it is not damaged.”

Laying on the floor, bleeding from his wound, Alaman remarked, “As always you have missed the point.” Taking out a small container that was hanging from around his neck which contained his gunpowder formula, Alaman threw it into the fireplace... then the world exploded.

++++

When the building blew up, the Musketeers along with Alaman’s daughter Samara and what Spanish soldiers were outside, seemed to fly in the air as debris reigned all around them.

Surrounded by flames and smoke as the burning building collapsed, dazed Musketeers walked around trying to make sure everyone survived.

“Where’s d’Artagnan?” Athos was the first to ask, putting a hand to his head as he was still unsteady on his feet. He saw Captain Treville helping others that appeared wounded and caught sight of Aramis and Porthos limping along. Samara seemed to be all right as well. But, where was the boy?

It took nearly twenty minutes of searching when Athos spotted a familiar gloved hand sticking out from under what seemed like a ton of debris. “Mon dieu!” he cried out softly. Athos frantically started picking up and hurling away bricks, wood, whatever was in his road to get to the youngster. “PORTHOS... ARAMIS... TO ME!” he yelled out. 

When the two men came running they both swore, realizing who was underneath all that rubble. Starting to help, they were joined by their captain.

“D’Artagnan?” Treville stared down at the single hand that was visible.

“Oui!” Athos was glad of the extra muscle as all four men worked rapidly until they cleared away enough debris to remove d’Artagnan.

“Easy,” Aramis warned, “we don’t know how badly he’s injured yet.”

The boy was unconscious that much was obvious to Athos's concerned eyes. Then again, who wouldn’t be having nearly an entire building dropped on him? Every one of them were covered in dirt and grime, but out of all of them d’Artagnan looked the worst. “We’re not going to be able to get d’Artagnan back to the garrison on horseback,” Athos noted.

“Not goin’ ta have ta,” Porthos pointed to a wagon that was hitched off to the side, miraculously not touched by the explosion. He picked d’Artagnan up as gently as one would a child and carried him over to the back of the wagon. Athos and Aramis scrambled to prepare it, covering the hard bottom with soft hay to lay the boy on. Placing his blue cloak over d’Artagnan, Athos collapsed beside his protégé, one hand on top of the child’s head anchoring them together. “Let’s hurry up!” he ordered. Aramis then jumped in and settled on the other side of their pup.

Guiding the team of horses, Porthos glanced back down at d’Artagnan’s slack features. “Was all of this worth it?” he growled. “We never got the cipher machine, Alaman’s dead and d’Art’s right hurt!”

“I’d answer that with one word, mon ami,” Aramis huffed. “NON!”

++++

*Garrison infirmary*

“How is he?” Treville asked as the first thing he did after getting back was to check on d’Artagnan.

“A bad concussion,” Aramis replied. “Along with broken ribs, a fractured wrist and ankle along with several deep lacerations and a multitude of extensive bruising all over his body.”

“You make sure, even if you have to tie the boy down, that d’Artagnan does not step one foot out in that courtyard unless it’s to get some sun!”

“We’ll make sure of that,” Porthos smiled. He’d personally stand guard over the whelp if he had too.

“Do you want some time alone with him, Athos.” This incident could have taken d’Artagnan away from them all, Aramis thought. He and Porthos hadn’t left the young man’s side since they brought him into the infirmary. Having had to share with Treville the fallout from this, Athos had just gotten back after writing up his report.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Athos sat down beside the boy who finally appeared to be waking up.

“Did a building fall on top of me?” d’Artagnan whispered, wincing as it sounded like there was someone inside his skull pounding away.

“Pretty much,” Athos sighed. “But, as Aramis would say, by the grace of God you survived to live another day.”

“I don’t remember much,” d’Artagnan mumbled. “What exactly happened?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Athos grim tone carried over to the boy. “General Alaman is dead along with Baltasar when the building blew up.”

“I’m sorry to hear about the general,” d’Artagnan had respected the man for his beliefs in the short time he had known him. “What of the cipher machine?”

“Destroyed in the same explosion,” Athos gazed fondly at the youngster. “Now, pup, all you have to do is concentrate on healing.”

“How badly am I injured?” D'Artagnan could hardly move without some sort of pain making itself known.

Listing all the injuries d’Artagnan had sustained, Athos gave a small huff of laughter as the boy rolled his eyes at him. “And, by order of Treville, you are not to be on the duty roster until we all deem you fit enough.”

“I am going to be sooooo bored,” d’Artagnan made a face to which had Athos laughing for the first time today.

“I’m sure all of us will make sure that doesn’t come to pass.”

“Could I have a drink of water do you think?” As d’Artagnan watched his friend retrieve a glass and pitcher from a nearby stand, Rene popped in.

“Good to see you are mostly in one piece,” Rene grinned.

“More or less," d'Artagnan returned wryly. "I thank you for your kind words,” d’Artagnan managed to chuckle.

“Have you heard what’s been going on while we’ve all been trying to get that cipher machine?” Rene saw blank faces on both men and continued. “Apparently the Dauphin was quite ill and Madame Bonacieux could tell that none of the doctor’s remedies were working and took it upon herself to take the baby to a public laundry.”

“Oh mon dieu!” Athos nearly knocked over his chair standing up. “What happened then?”

“Comte Rochefort and his Red Guards were looking everywhere for her and when the apprehended Madame, took her before their Majesties.”

“What did the king have to say?” d’Artagnan was afraid to find out. What a mess. First the cipher and now the Dauphin.

“He wanted Madame to lose her head,” Rene said, noticing that what color d’Artagnan had in his face leeched away totally now. Athos wasn't too far behind for that matter.

“Tell me it ended well?” Athos held his breath fearing what this would do to d’Artagnan if the news turned out to be tragic.

“Oui,” Rene grinned. “She took the Dauphin there for it was like a steam bath and Madame Bonacieux prayed that it would relieve the poor petite’s lungs.”

“Then all is well,” d’Artagnan didn’t know what he would do if Constance wasn’t in his world, in one way or another.

“She still has her head,” Rene offered with a small smile. “I believe King Louis will be looking for a new doctor though.” Waving at d’Artagnan, Rene was about to leave. “Good to see you’re still with us, mon frere.”

“I wonder which would be worse?” d’Artagnan muttered, more to himself than to Athos who had collapsed dazed in his chair from all that Rene had imparted.

“What are you talking about?” Athos handed the lad another glass of water.

“Being nearly blown to bits or having one’s head cut off,” d’Artagnan winced at the latter.

“Neither,” Athos barked. “For which you will never have to find out if I have anything to say about it.”

“You are not God,” d’Artagnan said as his eyes slipped closed.

“I’ll have Aramis intervene for me,” Athos whispered as sleep finally claimed their youngest.

The End


End file.
